


Heroes of the Resistance: Mr. Cheung - Clothes Make the Man

by brickhousewriter



Series: Heroes of the Resistance [4]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen, I write close-canon fic, This is a ship-free zone (unless you're Gipsy Danger whacking a Kaiju), This is mostly original characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:52:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brickhousewriter/pseuds/brickhousewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the clothes make the man.  </p><p>This story introduces you to the tailor who makes the clothes that make The Marshall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heroes of the Resistance: Mr. Cheung - Clothes Make the Man

**Author's Note:**

> Back in October I was flipping through my brand new copy of Pacific Rim: Man, Machines, and Monsters when I spotted this quote about Stacker Pentecost on page 28:
> 
> _He can function with the help of medication but he’s not as strong as he seems. “His clothes are almost holding him up.” Kate Hawley says. “Guillermo want him tailored to the hilt and not a crease anywhere.”_  
> 
> And suddenly I had another character to write, Stacker Pentecost’s Hong Kong tailor. The man who makes the clothes that hold the Marshall up.

### October 12, 2024

_Marshall Stacker Pentecost owed the United States representative to the United Nations respect while he was speaking, but the Marshall didn’t have to like what he was hearing.   “The world appreciates all that you and your men have done.  But it’s over.  We will authorize you to take all remaining Jaegers to the Last Battlestation, Hong Kong. We are prepared to fund you for the next eight months, while the Coastal Wall is completed.  After that, you’ll receive no further support.”_

_Pentecost was just getting ready to speak again when the representative from Canada spoke, “You have your answer Marshall.”  The various monitors on the wall blinked out as each of the nine UN delegates signed off from the conference call.  Pentecost stood at attention until the last representative had signed off._

_“So that’s it?  It’s over?” J-Tech Tendo Choi looked at the Marshall, then at Ranger Hansen._

_Hercules Hansen spoke, trying to find something to say to comfort his old comrade in arms, “Suits and ties … flashy smiles.  That’s all they are Stacker.”    He shrugged.  They’d find a way to keep fighting the war.  Soldiers always did._

_Pentecost turned to face them and muttered, “We don’t need 'em.”  He already had a backup plan.  He had just hoped he wouldn’t have to implement it quite so soon._

### October 14, 2024

Two days later, Marshall Pentecost was following his new aide-de-camp, James MacKenzie on a tour of the Hong Kong Shatterdome.  As they inspected the available billets in Officer Country, Pentecost frowned at how dark the rooms were. “Aren’t there any windows in any of the officer’s quarters?”

“No sir.  After the Exclusion Zone riots, the Marshall moved all personnel quarters underground.”

Pentecost frowned again, he hadn’t been briefed on the situation on the ground in Hong Kong as well as he would have liked.  “Has there been a continuing problem with rioting?”

“No sir, not lately.  But some members of the Hong Kong Executive Council are still angry at the PPDC for what they see as a failure to properly staff the Shatterdome when it first opened.”

“How so?”  MacKenzie had been born and bred in Hong Kong, and Pentecost was eager to learn more about his new posting. He’d learned over the years to cultivate every source of intelligence that was at his disposal.  He never knew when chatting up a driver or a custodian could lead to a snippet of information that he would never have known otherwise.  He needed all the eyes and ears he could get to keep informed about events that might affect his managing of the Shatterdome and maintaining good relations with the local civilian governments.   Information was valuable, and Pentecost took the time to chat with everyone under his command.  He wanted his staff to feel comfortable talking to him.  That way if there was something important to report to the Marshall, they wouldn’t hesitate to come to him.

“Well sir, from what I’ve heard, getting one of the first Mark-2s back in 2016 wasn’t good enough for them.  They think they should have had one of the Mark-1 Jaegers.”

“But _Lucky Seven_ was assigned to the Shatterdome before Reckoner breached. So it’s not as if the city was defenseless when the Kaiju attacked Hong Kong.” MacKenzie nodded.  “Reckoner came through the Breach, what, eight, nine years ago?  From what I could see flying in, the city has rebuilt the damaged areas. So shouldn’t that be ancient history by now?”

“Not the way they see it.  Remember sir, the Chinese worship their ancestors.  A lot of people were killed when Reckoner attacked the city.  That’s a lot of ghosts to appease.”

Pentecost nodded, “I’ll bear that in mind.  But back to my original question, aren’t there any open quarters with windows?”

“Not on this level.”

“On any level?”

“I’m sure there are sir.”

“Let’s find one. Winters in Anchorage are long.  I was rather looking forward to seeing more of the sun here in Hong Kong.”

After another hour of fruitless searching, Pentecost had almost given up on finding quarters with even a single window.  He’d finally told MacKenzie to contact environmental to send them a tech, and without saying what he was looking for, he’d ordered the man who answered his summons, to show him all the unoccupied rooms with a window facing the harbor.

On level 47B, at the top of the Shatterdome, they found an unused hydroponics lab that not only had a narrow window with a view over the harbor _and_ the landing pads, but two small skylights that let in small squares of golden sunlight.  MacKenzie stood in the corner looking uncomfortable while the Marshall prowled the room and the connecting storage room.  “This will do nicely.”

“Sir?”  MacKenzie swallowed.  Half of the floor in the room was occupied by two large pools of stagnant water that had previously been used to grow vegetables.

Pentecost turned to the environmental tech, “I want you to clean out the storage room next door. Then in here, we’ll want to put in a new sink here, next to that emergency shower.  I’ll want shelving here,” he waved at one wall, then pointed to the other, “and here.”

“Sir?  What will you be using this space for?”  The environmental tech looked completely confused.  The hydroponics lab had been unused ever since the Kaiju Blue blockade had been lifted on the port and food had started being imported into the city again.

“My office and living quarters.”

“But sir, the shower is right out in the open.”

“I’ve lived in barracks for most of my career.” Stacker shrugged, “I don’t see how this is any different.”  Stacker strode across to peer into the second room.   “If we can put a bed and some storage in here, and cycle some fresh water through these tanks, this should do just fine.  I’ll put my desk down at that end of the room.” He waved a hand in the direction of the door.

“Um, yes sir.”  The environmental tech glanced at MacKenzie, who just shrugged at him.   If the Marshall wanted to live in a hydroponics lab, his pay grade wasn’t high enough to tell his new commanding officer what he could and couldn’t do.  Pentecost gave the tech a few more instructions before sending him off.  Now that the Marshall had chosen his quarters, MacKenzie could finish their tour of the facility.

When they finally returned to the current base commander’s office, Marshall Jasper Tsang was almost done packing the last of his things.  Tsang looked up from putting papers in a file box.  “So, what do you think Stacker?”

“Looks like a fine facility Jasper.”

“Good.  I hope you like it.  I’m sorry I couldn’t leave you more people.  But I can’t force anyone to stay if I can’t pay them. And once word got around that the PPDC was shutting down the Jaeger program, I started hemorrhaging staff.”

“I’ve been working on recruiting.  I’ve got feelers out at every one of the other Shatterdomes.  Anyone who wants to stay in when their base shuts down has an open invitation to transfer here and join us.”

“Good.  I hope you get some good people.”

“The Kaidanovskys and the Hansens have both signed on.”

“Two of the best. Glad to hear it.”  Tsang nodded, “Any others?  I know there aren’t that many Jaegers left.”

“I’m also working on restoring one of the old Mark-3s.”

“I heard about that.   _Gipsy Danger_?  Any idea who’s going to jockey her yet?”

“I’m trying to track down Raleigh Becket.  He was the last one to jockey her.”

“I heard he dropped off the map.  Any luck?”

“None so far.”  Pentecost shook his head.  So far the search had been fruitless, Becket really _had_ seemed to have disappeared.

Tsang put one last file folder in the box and sealed it.

“Did you find quarters?”

“Yes, I’ll be taking over 47B-3.”

The Marshall had to think for a minute, “The hydroponics lab?”

Pentecost nodded, “I was thinking that the tanks were like two Zen reflecting pools.  Plus, it has a window with a view of the Harbor.”

“Zen?”  Tsang gave a bark of laughter.  “Going native already?”

Pentecost chuckled.  “You forget, I spent a couple of years posted to Tokyo. The Japanese tend to rub off on you.”

“That’s right, isn’t your daughter Japanese?”

“Yes, she is.”

“I’ve heard good things about her.  She coming here?”

“Next week.  Mako’s in Tokyo right now. Their Shatterdome is shutting down Saturday.  She’s working on transferring as many people and supplies here as we can.”

“She going to bunk in a hydroponics lab with you?”  Jasper grinned at the thought.

“No, no, she’s an Academy grad. She’s earned her own junior officer’s quarters.”

“They’re tiny.  Good, no spoiling her.”

“She wouldn’t let me.”  Stacker gave a small smile.  His daughter was every bit as disciplined and hard working as he was.  She made it easy to be proud of her.

The Marshall held out his hand, and Pentecost shook it. “Good luck Stacker.  Remember, Mac has been here since the place opened, he’ll help you keep things running right.  If you let him.”  Tsang winked at MacKenzie standing by the door, who flushed and nodded his head.   “Oh, and if a Mr. Cheung should pay you a visit, I recommend you see him.”

“Does this Mr. Cheung have a first name?”

“Not that he’s told me.”

“Who is he?”

“That would spoil the fun.”  Tsang winked as he headed towards the door.  “You’ll find out.  Just meet with him if he pays you a visit.  Take my word on it, you won’t be disappointed.”

### October 15, 2024

Pentecost was up early the next morning.  He’d slept in a visiting officer billet, but he was eager to start getting settled in his own quarters.  Overnight the environmental team had cleaned and fitted out the hydroponics lab according to his instructions.  And his furniture and boxes of personal belongings had been delivered and stacked in a corner of the room.

Pentecost had MacKenzie help him move boxes and arrange his desk and other furniture where he wanted it, then he sent the junior officer to fetch breakfast from the Mess Hall.  He had finished unpacking his clothes and personal items and had moved on to arranging his office when there was a knock on the door.

“Enter.”  Pentecost bellowed. 

MacKenzie backed through the door and deposited a tray on the corner of his desk.  The teapot, eggs and bacon were covered to keep them warm, but the toast was on a rack to cool.  Pentecost thought how nice it was to finally be back in territory that knew how to do a proper British breakfast.  “Thank you Mac.  Do you mind if I call you Mac?”

“No sir, all my mates call me Mac. And Marshall Tsang always did.”  Pentecost nodded. “And sir, there’s a Mr. Cheung here to see you.”

“I don’t have any meetings on my schedule until tomorrow.”

“Well sir, he’s rather insistent on seeing you.”

“Oh wait, is this the Mr. Cheung that Jasper was talking about yesterday?”

“I rather think it is sir.” Mac nodded.

“Then show him in.”  Pentecost moved the box off of one of the chairs for his guest, and then settled behind the desk and poured himself a cup of tea and breathed appreciatively as the scent of a good British breakfast blend rose from the cup. It smelled like home already.

Mac showed an elderly Chinese man into the room. He was wearing a simple dark suit with a Mandarin collar, exquisitely tailored to his short form.  As he turned to bow in thanks to Mac for showing him in, Pentecost realized that it wasn’t that the man was short, he was stooped.  And his jacket was cleverly tailored to disguise the hump in his back.

“A thousand pardons Marshall, I have interrupted you during your meal.”

“No, please have a seat.”  Pentecost waved at the one empty chair.  “With my schedule, I often have to eat during meetings.  Can I offer you tea?”

“No, thank you.”  The man gave a small bow before he seated himself. 

“I apologize for the state of my office, I’m still getting moved in.  Now, what can I do for you? Marshall Tsang mentioned that you might be stopping by, but he gave me no indication of who you are or why I might want to talk to you.”

“It is what I might do for _you_ Marshall.   My name is Mr. Cheung, and I am a tailor.  I have been the personal tailor to the Marshall of the Hong Kong Shatterdome since it first opened in November 2015.  During the past nine years I have made or tailored clothing for each of the three Marshalls who have previously held your position.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Cheung, but I’m afraid that I don’t require the services of a tailor.”

“Oh, but you do Marshall!”  The man sat up straight in his chair.  “The news has already spread that the Pan Pacific Defense Corps is shutting down the Jaeger Program, and that Hong Kong will be the last of the Shatterdomes.   Soon you will no longer wear the uniform of the PPDC, but you will still need to look your best when you meet with the Executive Council of Hong Kong or with Hannibal Chau.”

Pentecost frowned.  “You seem to know quite a bit about my plans for the future Mr. Cheung.” He was not happy that he’d only been in Hong Kong two days, and already his plans were common knowledge.  If there was a leak in his organization, he was going to have to plug it.

Mr. Cheung bowed his head, rebuked.  “I apologize if I have spoken out of turn.  I have many relatives in the service, nieces and nephews and grandchildren who work in the Shatterdome. They tell me things that they would not tell another living soul.  In a city of ten million people, knowledge is power.  It is useful to understand the motivations of others when you deal with them, especially those in positions of power.  I keep the information that my family shares with me in the strictest confidence.  I would not tell others the secrets that I carry, it would be bad for business. But since we both know these things, I thought, perhaps, that we could speak freely?”

Pentecost considered this, then nodded. He’d have to remember to have Mac track down all of Mr. Cheung’s relatives and have each of them in for a little private chat.

“For generations my family has had government contracts to make uniforms.  We started out with a small factory that supplied uniforms for the British Army stationed in Hong Kong.  And we hand-tailored officer’s uniforms in my family’s shop. We were known for our high quality, and long wearing goods.  When the sovereignty of Hong Kong was transferred from the British to the Chinese, we renegotiated our contracts and continued to make uniforms for both soldiers and officers in the Chinese military.  When the PPDC announced the opening of the Hong Kong Shatterdome, again we negotiated contracts to supply uniforms and won, based on the excellent reputation of our clothes.  As I said, I have personally supplied uniforms for the past three Marshalls.  And it would be my honor, Marshall Pentecost, if you would allow me to dress you as well.”  He gave a short bow, then sat waiting for an answer.

“I’m a military man Mr. Cheung, I afraid I cannot afford custom tailoring.”

“Marshall, you misunderstand me.  I am not seeking your business.  This would be my gift to you.”

“You’re not trying to bribe me, are you Mr. Cheung?”  Pentecost frowned.

“Oh, no sir!  To do so would bring immense shame to my family.  No, I consider this my personal contribution towards the success of the PPDC and the Jaeger program.  

When the Kaiju Reckoner attacked Hong Kong, I saw the beast with my own eyes.”  Mr. Cheung shuddered at the memory. “It was headed straight towards my factory when it was diverted by the Jaegers.  I lost many friends and family that day.  But I know that, were it not for the Jaeger program, my loss could have been much, much worse.  I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the PPDC for saving my factory and protecting my family that day.  I offer my tailoring skills as my thanks for your continuing protection of not only my family, but the City of Hong Kong.”

“I don’t see why it matters Mr. Cheung. They’re just clothes.”

“Hong Kong is a city famous for its bespoke tailoring.  Our citizens can tell couture from even the most carefully made knockoff, and many can identify your tailor by the cut of your suit.  Your status as Marshall makes you one of the most important government officials in the city.  And you must look the part.  Especially when meeting with the Executive Council of Hong Kong.  This city is an odd mix of British and Chinese customs, but many members of the council have very British attitudes towards class.  You cannot appear before the council looking shabby. They will not respect you if you do not dress the part.  And they will not negotiate with anyone they think is beneath them. You _must_ impress them. And my clothes will help you do that sir.”

“I don’t have time for this….”

“I will come to you Marshall.  After the initial measurements, we will only need a few fittings, and then I will have all the information that I need to complete your wardrobe.”

“I can still wear my uniforms for a couple of months.”

“Yes, but I’m afraid that your uniform no longer carries the weight that it once did. The council members know that you no longer have the support of the PPDC behind you.  And I have heard that you want a meeting with Hannibal Chau.  He considers himself to be a man of style.  He too will judge you by the clothes on your back.  Your uniform will mean nothing to him. You will have to dress well in order to make a good impression on that one.”

“I can only meet with Hannibal Chau if I can find him. I have a name, but no way to contact him.”  Pentecost sighed.  He needed funding to keep the Jaeger program up and running, and if it meant dealing with the devil, that was a deal he was willing to make.  He didn’t have much to bargain with, but dead Kaiju?  That was a commodity that he controlled and could sell. Or that Chau could sell, if he only knew how to contact him.

Mr. Cheung’s face broke out into a wide smile.  “Now that is something that I can help with.  Hannibal Chau is one of my son’s clients.  If you’d like, I can arrange for the two of you to meet.”

“I would very much appreciate that Mr. Cheung.  I’m beginning to understand why Marshall Tsang suggested that I meet with you.”

“Marshall Tsang and I had a very long and fruitful business relationship.”  Mr. Cheung smiled.  “I hope that you and I will as well.  My family will make everything that you need, an entirely new wardrobe: trousers, shirts, jackets, overcoats. I will return tomorrow with fabric samples, and we will begin.”  He rose and bowed to the Marshall.  “Until tomorrow Marshall.”

### October 16, 2024

The next morning Pentecost had already been up and working for an hour when there was a knock on the door at 0700.

“Enter.”

Mac slowly pushed the massive iron blast door open.  The hinges groaned as his aide-de-camp put his back into it.  Pentecost made a mental note to talk to Environmental about oiling the hinges before Mac hurt himself.  Mac gave a smart nod to his superior.  “The tailor sir.”

“Good morning Mr. Marshall sir.”  Mr. Cheung stood in the doorway and bowed.  Pentecost waved him into the room.

“How long will this take Mr. Cheung?”

“Not long sir.  Perhaps 30 minutes.  We’ll need to discuss what style of suit you want, choose your fabric, etc.  And I’ll need to take a full set of measurements.”  He placed a lumpy leather valise on the ground and pulled several large folios out and placed them on the edge of the desk.

 “Have you worked with a tailor before Marshall?”

“Our dress uniforms were tailored in the RAF.  And the PPDC has officer’s uniforms tailored to fit.”

“Did they take measurements, or just make alterations?”

“Just alterations.”

“Ah, then you have not experienced true bespoke tailoring.  Before the Industrial Revolution, all clothes were handmade, and therefore everyone wore clothes that were made specifically for them. But now things have changed.  Handmade clothes are the exception rather than the rule.

The vast majority of people wear clothing that is mass produced in factories in standard sizes.  If someone’s clothes fit well it is a happy accident that their body shape happens to match the standard pattern for a particular manufacturer.  If you buy ready-to-wear, your clothes seldom fit they way you want them too.  If you have wide shoulders and short arms, all your shirts and jackets will be too long.  If you have a generous belly, you have to buy your pants to fit your waist and not the length of your legs.  If you are tall, you probably have to buy shirts that are too big in the neck in order to find ones long enough for your arms.  Off-the-rack clothes are typically made as cheaply as possible, with low quality fabric, and sometimes the pieces are glued or fused rather than sewn as they should be.

If one has a bit more money to spend on clothes, or a non-standard body type, they might move up to made-to-measure to try to get a better fit.  With made-to-measure, the tailor uses standard patterns to construct your clothes, but adjusts the patterns to fit your body.  You get a higher quality fabric, and a mix of machine and hand sewing which results in a better quality garment. Your RAF and PPDC uniforms were probably cut from standard patterns and then tailored to fit your particular body type, so they were made-to-measure.

My family’s firm makes made-to-measure clothing. But we specialize in bespoke tailoring.  When we make a men’s bespoke suit, we take several measurements and draft an individual pattern specifically for the client.  If the client has something they want disguised, one arm or leg longer than the other, drooping shoulders, one shoulder higher than the other, a slight hump?  We can adjust the pattern, add a little padding here, take in the fabric a bit there, to minimize the effect or create a more symmetrical shape with the suit.  With a bespoke suit you have control over the fabric, the cut, the style, every detail of the garment.”  He flipped open one of the folios and turned it to display to the Marshall pages and pages of fabric swatches.  He flipped open another folio to display sketches of various suit details. 

Pentecost flipped through the second book. There were single button jackets, double button, triple button, double and single breasted, notch collars, shawl collars, peak lapels, smoking jackets, cutaway coats, a variety of pocket styles, rows of buttons, and more.  He’d thought that men’s suits were less complicated that women’s fashions, but as he flipped through the pages of the book, he felt a bit overwhelmed by the number of possible choices.

He shook his head.  “I am a soldier Mr. Cheung, I just want a simple suit.”

Mr. Cheung studied him for a moment.  “Would you mind if I took a look at one of your uniforms?

“No, not at all.  Let me get one for you.”

Mr. Cheung watched as the Marshall crossed the room. His shrewd eyes noted the cut of his PPDC uniform, how the broad shoulders tapered down to the belt at the waist.  And how his pants, just a bit too long, puddled slightly around the tops of his shoes.

When Pentecost returned, Mr. Cheung accepted the jacket that he handed him, and examined the seams briefly, before laying the garment flat on the desk in front of him.  He smoothed his hand across the fabric, “The cut of most uniforms are similar.  They’re all about telegraphing your rank and power to other members of the military.  Officers display their rank on their epaulettes.”  He pointed towards the row of four gold stars marching up each shoulder.”  The cut of the lapels are small, and high on the body, to allow space for displaying more insignia on your chest. The pockets provide a way to line everything up.  Your ribbons and medals march across in a straight line.”  He pointed to the row of campaign ribbons above the left pocket above his airborne pin, and Stacker’s name badge centered on the right pocket below his strike group leader pin.  “The wide shoulders and belted waist accentuate the shape of youth, because soldiers are often young men.  The style of this uniform is a cut that would best flatter a man in his twenties.  You wear it well, but I am thinking you are a bit older than that?”

“Yes Mr. Cheung.  I’m 38.”

“So we will want a cut that displays your wisdom and maturity to the world when you wear it. May I make a recommendation?”

“Please Mr. Cheung.”

“If you are used to wearing a uniform, let me make you a suit that will feel like a uniform to you, but look like a power suit to those who know what they are looking at. Your military background means you have excellent posture.  We’ll work with that and accentuate it. A double-breasted style will suit your height and broad shoulders nicely.  It’s more formal than a single-breasted suit, and takes a confident man to pull it off.”

He pulled a small leather bound notebook from his valise, made a quick sketch, then turned the page to show it to Pentecost.   “We’ll give you a wide peaked lapel.  The peaked lapel is more formal than the notched lapel.  And see how the size draws the eyes outward, to emphasize your chest, make you appear broader and bigger. Playing up your size will work to your advantage in Hong Kong.  Whether we consciously acknowledge it or not, height commands respect.  And you will need to command as much respect as possible to achieve your goals.

If we make it in something like….”  He flipped through one of the folios, filled with swatches of fabric, “something like this heathered blue wool, the color will put people in mind of your RAF or PPDC uniform.”  Pentecost nodded.  He’d never considered taking off his uniform.  As far as he was concerned, he was a member of the PPDC until they kicked him out or he died in the line of duty.  And he’d rather thought the latter would happen before the former.  But Cheung had a point, if his uniform no longer commanded respect, perhaps it was time to put it aside.

“But I do not want to take up much more of your time Marshall.  And I still need measurements.  If you could remove your jacket please?”  The tailor waited patiently while Pentecost unclipped his belt and ID badge and unbuttoned his uniform jacket.  He folded it and draped it over the back of his chair.  The tailor pulled the measuring tape from the valise on the floor.  “Stand as you would normally.  Don’t look down at me, that will change the measurements.”  Pentecost nodded.

“First we need your natural waist.”  He circled the Marshall’s body, pulling the tape tight.  He glanced at the number on the tape and noted it down in his small leather bound notebook.  “Then your hips…”  He circled the Marshall’s body again. “Do you prefer a high or regular rise sir?”

“What?”

“The length between the crotch and the waistband.  The shorter the length, the lower your pants sit on your waist.  Traditionally pants sit just below the navel.  Where do you prefer to wear your belt?  Natural waist or a little higher?”

“Where it is now.”  The tailor noted that in his notebook.  Then he measured the outside of Pentecost’s leg, from waist to floor.

“I need to measure your inseam.  This can be a bit… personal. Perhaps parade rest?”  The tailor looked up from where he knelt on the floor. Pentecost nodded, and shifted his feet, widening his stance.  The tailor placed his tape at the very top of Pentecost’s crotch, then measured down the inside of his thigh to the floor.  “Thank you sir.”  And he noted the measurement alongside the others in his notebook.  “And do you dress to the right or left Marshall?”

“Excuse me?”

“Which leg of your trousers should have *ahem* additional room for your comfort sir?”

“Oh yes…”  The Marshall told him, and the tailor made another notation in his notebook.

“Do you usually carry much in your pockets?  Keys, a wallet, coins?”

“Wallet and this,” Pentecost pulled out a small metal tin, “in the jacket, handkerchief and pocket knife in my trousers.  My ID clips to my belt.”

“Hmmm, does your ID card need to be visible?”

“Not here.  Everyone knows I’m the Marshall.  I do need to show it to gain access to restricted areas of the base though.”

“Would a breast pocket be an acceptable place to keep it?”

“I think so, yes.”  Mr. Cheung scribbled more notes in his notebook. “I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you to take off your shirt so that I can get accurate body measurements.”

“You can’t measure over my clothes?  Or just take one of my shirts and get the measurements off it?”

“No, I’m afraid not.  From my previous experience with PPDC uniforms, their sizes don’t always accurately reflect the bodies that wear them.” The tailor explained.

Pentecost gave a small sigh and unbuttoned his cuffs.  He unbuttoned his shirt, stripped it off, and laid it over top of the jacket on the back of the chair.  Then he pulled his undershirt out of his pants and over his head, laying it on top of his shirt.  His entire torso was cross-crossed with scars.  There were geometric lines traced all across his chest and back, and down both of his arms, like weird tribal tattoos.

“Oh!”  Mr. Cheung gasped, “I had not known you were a slayer of dragons Marshall!”

“What?”  Pentecost had borne the scars long enough, he’d encountered many different reactions to them, but this was a new one.

“I’m sorry, that is what my little granddaughter calls the Rangers. Slayers of Dragons. I’m afraid that my whole family has adopted the term.”

“Yes, I used to jockey.  _Coyote Tango_ , back when I was based in Tokyo in 2016.  But what told you I was a Ranger?”

“The scars sir.  They are unusual aren’t they?’ The tailor circled Pentecost, looking at the lines traced across his body.   “And only worn by Rangers.  I have only heard of one other who bore them.” 

“What?  Where else have you seen scars like these?”  Pentecost kept his excitement in check.  He’d been looking for Raleigh Becket for weeks now, and had no success tracking down the missing Ranger.  “It’s true, they’re from the circuitry suit that Rangers wear into battle to control their Jaeger.  But how could you know that?  Have you seen them before?”

“I’m afraid that I have never seen scars like yours before.”  Pentecost tried to hide his disappointment.  “But my son has.”  Stacker raised his head and his eyes bored into the tailor’s. “He told me once that he had seen a man with most unusual scars, and he described them to me as being very much like yours Marshall.”

“There are very few living humans who bear these marks.  Where did he see them?  Was he in Hong Kong?”

“No. My son lives in Japan.  He has a small tailor’s shop in Tokyo. But he travels widely, and I do not remember where he said he saw this man.”

“Could you find out for me?  It’s important.  I’m trying to locate a former Ranger, a man who has scars like mine.   I’ve been searching for him without any success.  I wasn’t even sure if he was still alive or not.  But if you say your son has seen him, then I may yet be able to find him.”

“I will do what I can Marshall.”  The tailor quickly took his measurements and wrote himself a few quick notes in his notebook.  “Do they hurt?”

“What?”

“The scars?   They’re quite extensive, I don’t think I can avoid having seams that rub against them.  But we could change the type of seams if they would cause you pain.”

“No.”  Pentecost shook his head as he picked up his undershirt.  “They don’t hurt at all.”

“I have what I need.” He flipped his notebook closed, then handed the Marshall his shirt.  “There, you see, that did not take long.  I’ll be back in a day or two for a fitting.”  He packed his few belongings in his valise while the Marshall put his shirt back on.

“Marshall.”  Mr. Cheung bowed, and then let himself out of the room.

### October 17, 2024

Stacker Pentecost was surprised when MacKenzie announced Mr. Chung again the next morning, promptly at 0700 hours.

“Mr. Cheung, I did not expect to see you for another day or two.”

“My wife started on your shirts yesterday.  She is a very efficient seamstress.  I have the first one ready for you to try on.”  Mr. Cheung pulled a heathered blue/grey cotton shirt out of his valise.  “We just got in a shipment of this cotton.  It’s similar in color to what we use to make the PPDC dress shirts but a finer fabric, and I thought it would go well with the wool we chose for your suit. My sons are working on your suit, we should be ready for the initial fitting tomorrow.

He handed the shirt to the Marshall.  “We chose a high, wide collar for your shirts Marshall.  The higher and wider the collar, the more formal and powerful the shirt.  In a different fabric, this style could be worn with a tuxedo.  If this one fits, my wife can start immediately on making the rest of the shirts for your wardrobe. As I said, we just got in a shipment, so we have plenty of fabric in the shop.”

Pentecost stripped off his jacket and shirt and buttoned the new shirt.  He flexed his shoulders and settled the cuffs at his wrists.  Then he turned away from Cheung, unzipped his trousers and tucked in the tails.    When he turned back around, Mr. Cheung handed Pentecost a rolled bundle of navy silk. “I thought a blue-on-blue regimental tie would work well at presenting the military look we are aiming for.”

Pentecost accepted the tie and strode over to the mirror that Environmental had hung by his sink.  He buttoned the top button, for once the neck on a shirt fit perfectly, and knotted the tie around his neck. He adjusted the knot and folded the collar back down over it.  He considered the image in the mirror of a tall, dark skinned man in a pale blue shirt and navy tie.  He looked the picture of health.  How long could he maintain the illusion?  How long could good clothes fool people into thinking he wasn’t dying?

Stacker smoothed the fabric, feeling the soft cotton under his fingertips.  He seldom took time for himself, or allowed himself frivolous pleasures. But a good suit, he thought he could allow himself that one small luxury.  “This will do nicely.  Thank you Mr. Cheung.”

### October 18, 2024

Mr. Cheung arrived promptly at 07:00 hours the next morning, a garment bag draped over his arm.  MacKenzie let him into the Marshall’s office where Pentecost was going over staffing reports with a pot of tea.  MacKenzie collected the reports from the Marshall, then quietly disappeared.

“Mr. Cheung.”  Pentecost nodded.

Mr. Cheung nodded to the Marshall, draped the garment bag over the back of the chair, and set down the package under his arm and placed the small stool he carried on the floor.

While the Marshall finished his tea, Cheung busied himself with unpacking three identical shirts, which he placed neatly on the shelf near the sleeping quarters with Pentecost’s other shirts.  Then he unpacked his tailor’s tools.  He draped his measuring tape around his neck, and placed a small wrist pincushion and a piece of chalk where he could reach them when he needed them.  Then he folded his hands in front of him, and waited for the Marshall.

Stacker waved a hand at the chair in front of him.  “Please Mr. Cheung, sit down, I’ll just be a minute or two more.  May I offer you some tea?”

Mr. Cheung shook his head no, but accepted the seat.

Pentecost made a few more notes on the computer screen in front of him, then tapped the screen and set down the tablet.

“Marshall.”  Mr. Cheung bowed, and handed Pentecost another shirt and a pair of pale blue wool pants. “If you would try these on?”

Pentecost stood.  “Perhaps we should move closer to the mirror, sir?”  Mr. Cheung cocked his head at the Marshall.  Pentecost nodded, and Cheung carried the stool down the walkway between the two pools and set it where Pentecost could see his reflection in the mirror.  Pentecost disappeared into his sleeping quarters, and re-appeared a few minutes later, wearing the new shirt and pants.

“There aren’t any belt loops.”  Stacker tugged at his waist.  “But they seem to fit just fine without a belt.”

“That’s because they are made to your measure sir.”  Cheung circled the Marshall.  “A well-fitted pair of trousers should not be able to slide off the body when worn without a belt or suspenders.   I see you’ve adjusted the tab in the back.  Good.”

“Yes, but I almost didn’t need to.”

“Excellent.  Now let’s adjust the length.  If you wouldn’t mind stepping up on the stool sir?  I fear that as I get older, it’s harder for me to kneel.”

“Of course.”  Pentecost stepped up on the stool that Mr. Cheung had brought with him, and the tailor settled back on his haunches to pin the cuffs of the trousers.  “Cuffs shorten the appearance of the legs. With your height we could certainly add cuffs to your trousers.  But I think we’ll give these a plain hem, to play up your height.”  A few minutes later, he stood again.  “If you wouldn’t mind walking around a bit, then sitting to check the fit?”

Pentecost walked back to his desk, and sat in one of the chairs.  He tried crossing his legs, then stood up again and walked back to the tailor.

“How do they feel?”

“Good, good.”

“Let’s try the jacket next.”

Mr. Cheung crossed the room to the garment bag slug across the back of one of the chairs and pulled out what looked like a dark vest with only one arm.  The torso was criss-crossed with white stitching.  “A handmade suit is made up of several layers of fabric.”  He held the jacket while Pentecost slipped his arms in and helped him settle the half-finished garment across his shoulders.  “This is finished enough to check the fit of the shoulders and arms.  Don’t worry, it won’t look like this when it’s complete. But you’ll have to use your imagination for now.”

Pentecost flexed his shoulders and moved his arms around.  “Hmmm.”  He turned to look over his shoulder at the back of the jacket.

“Mr. Cheung…” his voice trailed off. 

“You don’t like the fit?”  Cheung’s voice was carefully neutral.  His job was to guide his clients in their sartorial choices, but ultimately, he wanted to please them.

Pentecost ran a hand across the fabric, brushing at invisible dust.  “No, the fit is quite good, excellent in fact.”

He fingered the fabric again. Finally he spoke again, “I’m wondering if perhaps it is a bit too tailored?”

Mr. Cheung moved around behind him, and twitched the shoulders of the jacket, then tugged slightly at the hem.  Stacker could see his quizzical look in the mirror. “Your uniforms are quite tailored Marshall.” 

“I know.” The Marshall sighed.

The tailor waited patiently for his client to speak.  Something was bothering him, and Cheung didn’t think it was the fit of his suit.  Mr. Cheung’s firm hands smoothed the shoulders of the suit. He’d long ago learned the ways that a tailor could soothe a troubled client, and a gentle touch often worked wonders.

“Mr. Cheung, you saw my scars the other day.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, Pentecost finally made up his mind. “I have radiation poisoning. From my years as a Ranger.”

“You don’t look ill sir.” 

“For the moment, the medication is working.”

“But eventually it will not.”  Cheung said softly and nodded.  So that was it. 

“No, it will not.  It’s eating me from the inside out.  Dr. Lebeau tells me that as the disease progresses that I’m going to start losing weight.”  The Marshall paused. It was the first time he’d spoken about his illness with anyone other than his doctor. Marie kept insisting that he talk to Mako about it. But he wasn’t ready to have that conversation with his daughter just yet.

“And you’d like to disguise your illness as long as possible?  Because you don’t want it to impact your job.”  He made eye contact with the Marshall in the mirror. Stacker nodded.  Just once. 

He circled around to the face the Marshall, taking charge once again.  “Then I think we’ve made the right choice with a double-breasted suit. The fit is a bit baggier, but still very professional.  When the time comes that your weight begins to change, that cut will be more forgiving.  We can add a waistcoat for warmth when you need it.  And eventually we may work in some discreet padding if we need to make you look larger.  Thank you for trusting me enough to share this with me.  There are quite a number of ways that I can help you with this Marshall.  Good tailoring is not just about drape and fit.  A good tailor can create optical illusions with fabric and padding to change the shape of your body.  We can work with this.”  He nodded. 

The Marshall considered his reflection a moment longer. “When do you think the first suit will be ready?”

“In another day or two, do you need it sooner?”

“I was just thinking that Mako, my daughter, has never seen me wear anything other than a uniform.”

“You have been in the service since before she was born?”

“Yes, but she’s my adopted daughter.  She was orphaned when Onibaba attacked Tokyo.  She’s in Tokyo now as a matter of fact. They’re shutting down their Shatterdome and she’s securing transfers of supplies and recruiting anyone that wants to transfer to Hong Kong.  She should be arriving Monday or Tuesday.”

“Has it been a long time since you’ve seen her?”

“Only a week or two. But this will be the first time she’s ever seen me out of uniform.  I’m afraid it might be somewhat of a shock.”

The tailor nodded.  “But if you are wearing the suit when she arrives, it will just seem as if it is one more change that goes along with your new posting?”

“Yes.”  Pentecost nodded.

“May I ask Marshall, does your daughter know about your illness?”

“We haven’t had that conversation yet.  Although I suspect she knows.”

“We’ll help you keep your secret as long as you need to.  And I think we can have this finished by the time she arrives.”

“Thank you Mr. Cheung.”

Pentecost took off the jacket and Mr. Cheung carefully folded it back into the garment bag.  When Pentecost came back out of his bedroom and handed the trousers to the tailor, Mr. Cheung handed him a small orange card.  “My son gave me this to deliver to you.”

Pentecost turned it over curiously.  It was blank on both sides.  “What is this?”

“Hannibal Chau’s business card.  It’s imprinted with his glyph, but it is only visible under blacklight.  He has a shop in the Exclusion Zone, at the corner of Fong Road and Tull Street.  However, as a representative of the PPDC, it would not be wise for you to enter the Exclusion Zone.  And Chau does not often travel outside the Zone.  I would recommend you have a messenger contact him and suggest a meeting on neutral territory.  My son meets him at a local tea house.  The Jade Lotus Blossom is an excellent choice, and it’s right on the border of the Exclusion Zone.”

“Once again Mr. Cheung, I am in your debt.”

### October 19, 2014

The tailor returned the next morning for a second fitting.  This time the trousers were finished and the suit jacket had two sleeves.

Cheung helped him into the jacket.  Pentecost shrugged, settling the jacket across his shoulders.  He tugged slightly on the cuffs, adjusting how the sleeves lay on his arms.

Mr. Cheung moved around behind him, fingers deftly twitching at the fabric here and there, checking the fit and making marks on the fabric in the mysterious chalk notations that tailors use. He sunk to his knees, reevaluating how the pants hung now that the Marshall was wearing the jacket as well.

“I understand Marshall that the Hong Kong Executive Council is meeting next week. While it would not be appropriate for me to tell you anything too personal or incriminating about any of the council members, I can describe their politics and personalities for you.  Which I think might be helpful when you meet them for the first time.”

“I would very much appreciate that Mr. Cheung.”

“If I might make a suggestion Marshall? It might be helpful if your Mr. MacKenzie took some notes.”

“MAC!”  Pentecost bellowed.

MacKenzie stuck his head in the door. “Sir?”

“Mac, take a meeting. Mr. Cheung has some intelligence for us about the Hong Kong Executive Council.”

“Yes sir.  Let me just get my tablet sir.”

Cheung continued to circle the Marshal, making chalk notations on the suit jacket.  He waited until Mac returned before he started speaking again.

 “As you know, the Executive Council exists to advise the Chief Executive on policy-making and administering the government of Hong Kong.  But it would be foolish for the Chief Executive to go against the will of the council.  There are 15 official members of the council, and 14 non-official members, but their power exists as a group, not as individuals.

The president of the Council is Cy Leung.  I suspect that he will approve anything you suggest, as it would be in the best interests of Hong Kong. But it would be a waste of your time to try to enlist him in assisting you in swaying the other council members.  He likes to pretend that he is neutral in all conflicts.

His Chief Secretary is Carrie Lam, she is Leung’s yes-man, and she also likes to adopt a pose of neutrality.  Although she will vote with Leung on most issues.

John Tsang, the Financial Minister, is Marshall Jasper Tsang’s son. You can count on him as an ally in anything you do.

Rimsky Yeun, the Secretary for Justice, has family and family holdings that were saved by _Lucky Seven_.  He owes a debt to the PPDC and will likely vote in your favor on anything you propose.

Lam Wook-Kwong controls half the docks in Hong Kong.  He knows how vulnerable his ships and other holdings are to Kaiju.  He will support you, but only grudgingly. He does not like to be beholden to anyone. But his business needs your protection.

Cheung Yui-Ton has made his fortune in construction.  He supports the Coastal Wall project.  You will have to tread carefully with him.  He is likely to openly oppose you now that the PPDC has changed their focus to the Wall of Life as the primary means of protection against the Kaiju.  I would keep an eye on him.  He could cause trouble for you on the council.

Lara Cha is pregnant with her first child. It’s not common knowledge yet, but my granddaughter tells me that she’s been having horrible morning sickness.  She will be wanting to make an announcement, and you can give her the opportunity.   Flatter her.  Tell her she’s glowing.  Provide the opening for her to share her good news.  It will buy you her goodwill later when you need it.  And once she is a mother, she will better appreciate why the city needs your protection.

Anthony Cheung, the Secretary for Transport and Housing, is my brother’s son.  He and his father had a falling out years ago, and he has left the family business. Do not let him know you know me, or he will oppose you solely out of spite towards our family.

Matthew Cheung, the Secretary for Labor and Welfare, is my nephew, my sister’s son.  He understands how important your protection is to Hong Kong.  He will assist you in any way possible.  But you will have to be careful not to attract the notice of Anthony.

Anna Wu considers herself to be British, not Chinese. She’s also a racist and will hold the color of your skin against you Marshall. But you don’t need her support.  Her fortune is in hotels, and you do not need her to house your people.  However, she needs you to protect her properties, especially the ones with a view of the harbor.  You can use that as leverage with her.”

The tailor continued talking as he finished marking the suit, helped the Marshall out of the jacket, and carefully packed it back into the garment bag to transport back to his shop.

“Thank you Mr. Cheung, this has been most enlightening.”

“It has been my pleasure to be of service to you sir.”  The tailor bowed, and then showed himself out.

### October 20, 2024

“Mac, could you put a call through to Ranger Hercules Hansen at the Sydney Shatterdome?”

“Your weekly call sir?”

“Yes, he should be expecting it.”

When his aide-de-camp told him the connection had gone through, Pentecost flipped on the communications screen.  “Good morning Herc, how are you mate?”

“Good, good, can’t complain.”  Hansen squinted at the screen, “What are you wearing Stacker?”

Pentecost chuckled.  “My new suit.  It just arrived this morning.  You remember the mysterious Mr. Cheung I told you about last week?  Well he turned out to be the local tailor. He’s talked me into taking off the uniform earlier than I thought I would.  What do you think?”  Pentecost slowly turned 360 degrees, so that his old friend could admire the suit from all sides.

Henson whistled.  “Looking sharp Stacker.  Any plans to show it off to the ladies?”

Pentecost gave a small smile.  “The only lady I’m hoping to impress is Mako.”

“Has she arrived yet?”

“She should be here later today.  But before I forget, the tailor got me thinking.  What should we do about uniforms for PPDC personnel who transfer to Hong Kong?  Technically once their Shatterdome shuts down, they’re not longer members of the Corps, even if the Corps is still paying their salary for the next couple of months.  I’ll have to check with Legal, but I’m not even sure that we can require people to wear uniforms of a service they no longer belong too.”

Hansen looked thoughtful for a few minutes.  “Will the transfer paperwork indicate that they’re no longer PPDC?”

“I’ll have to check, but I don’t think so.  And payroll is still going to be managed by the PPDC for the time being.”

“Then I say, if they don’t know, don’t tell ‘em.  Uniforms help build unit cohesion.  If someone challenges it, we can deal with that when it happens.  Until then, they’ve already got their uniforms, let ‘em keep wearing them.”

Pentecost nodded.  “Agreed.  When are you going to get here?  I’ve got strategy I want to discuss, and I don’t like doing it over an unsecured line.”

“We still have to close down the Shatterdome.  It’s going to be probably another month or two.”  Hansen sighed.  “Damn fools, that Coastal Wall is a joke. If they think it’s going to be finished by next summer, they’re kidding themselves.  And there’s no way a wall is going to hold back a Kaiju, especially if the ones coming through the Breach keep getting bigger.”

“Agreed.  That’s why Operation Pitfall is so important.”

“What’s the word on the missile?”

 “I’ve got Legal working on the last of the paperwork.  It should be on its way here soon.  Maybe before Christmas.”

“Well, from the way things are moving down here, I figure we should be in Hong Kong around New Years.”

“The people of Hong Kong will be glad to have you back. They haven’t forgotten the _Lucky Seven_.  Reckoner’s bones are still lying in the Exclusion Zone, right where you left them.”

“I’m looking forward to it.  Hong Kong was good to us last time I was there.” 

“Looking forward to seeing you again mate.”

“You too Stacker.  Although, as usual, I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Ending this war with the Kaiju will be worth it.”

“Damn straight.  Although I’m not sure I know how to do anything but fight anymore.”

“Me either.  But once we end this, we’ll have the time to find out.  Keep me posted if anything changes.  I’ll talk to you next week Herc.”

“Talk to you next week Stacker.”

### October 20, 2024

Marshall Pentecost was waiting just inside the door when the transport helicopter arrived from the Tokyo Shatterdome.  As the chopper settled onto the landing pad, he strode out to meet it.  He stood braced against the rotor wash as the door slowly slid open, the stairs lowered, and a handful of PPDC personnel started down the stairs. 

A slender form crossed the tarmac and stopped in front of the Marshall.

“Miss Mori.” He gave a curt bow.

“Marshall.” His adopted daughter returned his bow and gave him a shy smile.

“Come, let me show you our new home.”  He led the way into the Shatterdome.

“ _I almost didn’t recognize you_.”  She said in Japanese when they reached the lift.

“ _What do you think_?” 

She tilted her head and looked at her adopted father.  “ _I think it suits you Sensei.  You look dignified_.”

“ _I’m glad you approve_.”  He gave her a small smile.   She smiled back.  The lift stopped and he led the way down the hallway.  He stopped at one of the doors, turned the handle and swung open the massive metal blast door.  “I’ve assigned you to your own set of junior officer’s quarters.  My quarters are around the corner and down the hall, that way.”  He pointed.  “I had Chief Lebeau transfer your things up here when they arrived from Anchorage.”  He led the way into the small room.  There was a single bed in the corner, a small kitchenette, and bare metal shelving across one wall.  There was a stack of boxes in the corner, covering a large table.

“I did have environmental move a bigger table in here, I know you like having a larger workspace.”  He closed the door so that she could see the table he’d chosen for her.

Once the door was closed, he dropped his formality. “I’ve missed you. Welcome home Mako.” He drew his daughter into his arms in a bear hug. 

“I’ve missed you too Sensei.”  She returned his hug.

“Have you eaten yet?  I know it’s a long flight from Tokyo.”

“We had breakfast before we left, but that was a long time ago.  How are the egg rolls here?”

“I haven't tried them yet, but you’ll probably hate them.”  Pentecost smiled, “Let me show you the Mess Hall, and you can give me a report on your trip to Tokyo.”

### November 1, 2024

MacKenzie announced the tailor, promptly at 07:00 hours.  Pentecost waved him in, and went back to his paperwork.  He’d seen the tailor enough times by now to know that he’d arrange his delivery and tools to his satisfaction, and then take a seat while the Marshall finished up what he was working on.

Pentecost finished scanning the duty rosters in front of him, signed half a dozen requisitions that needed to be dealt with immediately, scanned his inbox for anything else tagged critical, and then shut his tablet and addressed the old man sitting patiently across from him.

“Good Morning Mr. Cheung.  What have you brought me today?”

“Your last suit Marshall.  The one we did the final fitting for last week. I already hung it in your closet, if that’s acceptable?”

“Yes, thank you.”  Pentecost nodded.  “But what’s this?” He waved at the garment bag draped across the second chair.

“You didn’t order one, but I took the liberty of making you a great coat.  I understand from the family grapevine that you may be traveling North soon, and thought you might need one.”

“That was quite thoughtful of you.  And I should thank you Mr. Cheung, my meeting with the Executive Council last week went quite well.  Your information about each of the council members was invaluable.  And you were right, I do think they were impressed by the suit.” Pentecost smiled, remembering the looks on one or two of the faces when he’d walked in the room.  They were expecting a disgraced military man, and were surprised by what had walked in the door of the council chamber.

“I was happy to be of service Marshall.  The council may feel safe in their penthouse suites, above the city.  But those of us who live below?  We can smell the fear.  The city needs you and your Rangers.  They need to feel protected from the threat of Kaiju.”

“That is the job I am sworn to do Mr. Cheung.”

“And the people of Hong Kong thank you for it.” Mr. Cheung bowed, “Please let me know if I can be of service to you in any way.  My niece can pass the message along.”

“I think my current wardrobe will be sufficient for the time being.” There were a dozen new shirts and three suits hanging in his closet now, thanks to the tailor.

“When you start needing alterations then.” Mr. Cheung stood. “Which I hope will not be for a very long time yet Marshall.”

The Marshall nodded.

Cheung folded up the now empty garment bag and went to tuck it into his valise.  “Oh, and I almost forgot Marshall, this is for you.”  Cheung handed Pentecost a small manila envelope.

“What’s this?”  Pentecost opened the envelope and pulled out a few sheets of paper.

“You asked me about the man that my son met, the Slayer of Dragons?  He sent me all the information that he had on him.  It arrived this morning.”

Pentecost looked at the sheet of paper in his hand.  The name across the top read “James Becket” and below it were a set of measurements and a rough sketch of a karate gi.  He flipped over the sheet, and saw a series of random geometric sketches that looked like circuits.  He recognized them.  They were Raleigh Becket’s scars, the marks burned on his body when he piloted _Gipsy Danger_ solo, after his brother’s death.  He’d seen them when Becket lay unconscious in the Medical wing after they’d found him lying half-dead on the snowy beach the morning after the battle.

“Mr. Cheung,” Pentecost tapped the paper with his finger.  “today you have done me a _great_ service. Thank you.”

Mr Cheung bowed deeply.  “It is but a small thing if I can in any way repay you and your people for keeping the city of Hong Kong and the world safe. Thank _you_ Marshall.”

**Author's Note:**

> The characters from Pacific Rim are copyright Travis Beacham and Legendary Pictures. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> They say write what you know, and I while I’m not as good a seamstress as I’d like to be, I do make my own clothes for my other hobby, historical reenacting. The vast majority of my social circle is part of what one friend calls the “dress up in funny costumes crowd”: historical reenactors, renaissance faire patrons and performers, LARPers, cosplayers, theatrical costumers, and basically anyone else who considers Halloween to be one of their High Holidays. So I know that while basic sewing is not particularly difficult, sewing well, tailoring a garment from scratch to fit a particular body, that is a skill. And one that few people have or appreciate anymore.
> 
> I used some names of the current Executive Council of Hong Kong as documented in Wikipedia because I found them to be an interesting mix of English given names and Chinese family names. However, the personalities I have assigned to each name are solely a product of my imagination, have no basis in fact, and are not in any way intended to depict the actual council members.
> 
>  
> 
> I’ve heard that fandom is a gift economy. This story is my gift to you. If you enjoyed it, your gift to me would be to leave me a comment or a kudo to let me know what you think of my stories. Feedback helps keep me motivated to keep writing.


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